


First Impressions

by KuriTheDweeb



Series: Second Chances 'verse [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018), The Defenders (Marvel TV), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: First Impressions, Fluff, Good Parent Wade Wilson, Obligatory family AU, Parent Wade Wilson, Second Chances 'verse, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:42:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23788036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuriTheDweeb/pseuds/KuriTheDweeb
Summary: Wade muttered that they were so weird, what the fuck kind of person eats straight lemons?Matt told them about his and Foggy's latest adventure. Peter gave him his lemon slices.Neither of them asked. He didn't feel like telling.(A.K.A. meet the extended fam)
Relationships: Luke Cage & Jessica Jones & Matt Murdock & Danny Rand, Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson & Karen Page, Matt Murdock & Peter Parker & Wade Wilson, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Miles Morales & Peter Parker
Series: Second Chances 'verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571710
Comments: 17
Kudos: 217





	First Impressions

Weasel had been there since Matthew had come into Wade's wonderfully screwed up life. Matthew loved calling the guy Old Man and antagonizing him. Truly Wade's child.

The X-Men, Russel, Cable, and Domino had come along much later. It was right around the time they packed up and dropped themselves on the other side of the river. Matthew didn't actually meet any of them until after it had all happened. When Wade told the story of what went down, with the kids and the Ice Box, his tone was lower than usual and his heart stayed steady. He was sicker and weaker than Matt had ever seen him when he came home, and just held him for so so long. Despite that, Matt knew it would be okay.

Matt was reading at the bar in Sister Margaret's, an unopened can of some sort of soda beside him when Miss Domino sidled up and asked if anything was wrong. Which made it sound like he was in distress, even though he was clearly perfectly fine and no one was bothering him.

"I . . . Pardon?"

"Is everything okay?" she asked. "Kids generally don't show in a place like this, at leasr without a guardian present."

"That guardian would be me, actually," Weasel announced as he returned from the back room, grabbing a relatively clean glass for her. "Domino, meet Matthew. Matthew, meet your sort of Aunt Domino."

"The lucky Domino from the mission with the burning building and Juggernaught?" Matt asked, tilting his head her way. "Hello."

"So you're heard of me."

"Wade's kid," Old Man Weasel said. "Comes by sometimes when Wade's out."

"Ah. Nice to meet you Matthew."

"Likewise?"

Cable is actually with Wade when Matt meets him. Well, dragging him around with him is more acurate. 

It was a suspiciously quiet day, with him busy unpacking the two boxes of books in the living room, when he heard Wade outside. Not skipping or whistling, or anything really. It was more like a moving corpse. The man beside him had a metal arm and didn't smell right, like he didn't belong. 

Wade wouldn't give their address to anyone and he was extremely careful so no one would be able to track them down, so Wade must have told the man, which meant he was okay.

Matt opened the door before the man who didn't belong could, and his heartbeat reads as surprised when he lays eyes on Matt.

The man who didn't belong seemed like he was about to say something, only to hesitate when Matt worms his way under his metal arm to wrap his little teenage arms around Wade's torso. He leaves the door open so he can drag the hulking mass of his adoptive father into the house. The man steps in behind him, politely closing the door behind himself. He tried to speak again multiple times as Matt hauls Wade onto the couch.

"I didn't think Wilson knew anything about children," he finally says, gentle.

"Yeah, well Wade never turns out to be who you think he is," Matt muttered, placing his hands on Wade's chest. It rises and falls with a shudder, skin knitting together and bones twisting back into place under Matt's fingers. His arms sound broken. He takes off Wade's mask to check his head. There's a dent in the back his skull. "He tends to hold his bucket of secrets close to his chest."

"Who do you think he is?"

"No one that matters to you."

The shuddering of his chest pauses for a moment. The dent in his skull is starting to smooth out. Wade groans and rolls onto his side, staring at Matt.

"Matthew," Wade says in greeting. 

"Wade," Matt says in return. "Did you get hit by a really big truck? It feels like you got hit by a really big truck."

"I think it was a building." Wade craned his neck to peer up at the man who didn't belong towering over Matt. "Cable dearest, why are you in my house? Have you met my boy? He's your nephew now," he said, rolling back over and throwing a broken arm over his eyes. "Matthew, this is your sort of Uncle Cable."

Cable's heart did not sound angry, but he clenches his jaw all the same.

Matt helpfully informed him, "You smell weird."

Cable somehow clenches his jaw harder.

Two days later, Wade slammed the door and tore up the letter that had been left on their doorstep. 

"Matty, pack a bag, we're taking a day," he yelled down the hall, jabbing irritably at his phone. "We're gonna go tell people to fuck off!"

Oh, always fun.

Mr. Dopinder told him the story of how he and Wade met and how he was inspired on the way to a home and school for mutants and the enhanced, run by Dr. Charles Xavier. Wade warned him that his guy was a telepath, if he goes digging around in your head tell him to get fucked, he had no right to pick Matty's brain.

There are so many on the campus, so many heartbeats with little flickers of their powers twined around them, smells and sounds that don't seem possible. While it is amazing, it makes Matt paranoid, and he finds himself praying this many never step into his territory, whether in Queens or the Kitchen.

Wade ruffles his hair and places Matt's hand on his elbow. Matt grounds himself on the familiar feel of the Deadpool suit, digging nails into the fabric. Wade guides with with practiced ease, and people move out of his way immediately. 

It's an odd comfort, that all these people know Wade and it's hard to tell if it's out of respect or fear or something else. But it's a comfort nonetheless.

"Hey, you," Wade snaps at someone around Matt's age who's heat pools at their eyes with the scent of burning. "Cyclops, yeah? Where's the professor."

"Professor Xavier? I think he's, uh." Cyclops pauses to think, books held close to his chest. He tilts his head towards Matt, like he's trying to figure him out.

"Don't terrorize the brats," says a man with metal bones from the stairs. "I'll take ya, bastard."

"It's nice to see you too, Big Bad Wolvie. We're going up a lot of stairs, Matty, mind your cane and your toes." Matt nodded, folding his cane in half. He's careful not to hit his toes too hard against the steps when finding them. Little things like the distance between steps is hard to sense sometimes. "What do you think of the place?"

It takes Matt a moment to form an answer. "I dunno, too many people, weird smells. Too many enhanced in too small a place, I think. Bound for somethin'," he finally says, once they've reached the top of the stairs and he's unfolded his cane again. "Somethin' that involves violence."

"Bound for somethin'," Wade agreed.

_You're broadcasting, were you aware of that?_

Everything doubled. The smells, the sounds, the everything. He could feel the grass outside all along his arms, and taste ash across the building. His head hurt.

This was not fun.

_Oh dear, this is far too much imput for a boy your age._

That voice was not his or Stick's, and it sounded nothing like the rational little Soldier Wade in the back of his head. He decided that he didn't like the voice all that much. There weren't any other voices allowed in his head.

_There's no need to be afraid, young man. I assure you, no harm will come to you here._

_I don't want you here,_ Matt thought as loudly as he could. _I don't want to be here anymore._

" - tty? Hey, baby, it's okay. You alright?"

When had they entered a different room? It was smaller, and there was someone in a wheelchair by the man with metal bones. Wade was crouched down in front of him, holding Matt's shaking hand. When did that happen, why were his hands shaking? He didn't like it here. He slung his arms over Wade's shoulders and hid in his neck, clinging.

"Get out of his head right now," Wade snapped at - someone. It was unclear who. Matt clung harder.

"I'm trying, Mr. Wilson," said the man in the wheelchair, "but I'm afraid it's harder than you think. He's broadcasting, my power is being drawn to the output of his. I do believe, however, if he were to stay here for a little while and - "

He wanted to leave.

"No. Don't contact us again, if you wouldn't mind," Wade cut him off. Matt had grown a bit since he had met Wade, but he was still small enough for Wade to scoop him up and settle him against his hip like Matt was a baby. Something Wade would still do when he was fully grown. "C'mon, honey, we're going home."

The man with metal bones tried to follow them out. A kid that smelled like ash trailed after them outside. He called to Wade a moment too late, after he'd put Matt in the backseat and closed the door behind them, out of earshot. Everything only went back to normal when Mr. Dopinder pulled away from the campus. 

He didn't think he liked the X-Men all that much.

Peter's barely older than a baby when they meet him, not long after the thing with the X-Men, only two weeks after the Ice Box. Wade talks sweetly to his Aunt May and Uncle Ben in the next room over. Peter's sitting on the floor in front of the couch reading a bulky book that doesn't sound like it's made of paper. Matt had been told to go interract with the small one please, bratty teenage child, social interaction is good for a brain his size and yours.

Yeah, maybe, whatever, but this kid isn't old enough to know about anything he likes or does at school. Great big flaw in whatever plan you had there, Sir.

Matt does it anyways. He pats along the wall until he comes to the table with the little lamp, and follows the edge around to the couch. The toe of his sneaker hits Peter's leg.

"Oh," he says as if he hadn't known Peter was there. "Hello."

"Hello," Peter says, soft-spoken and polite. "Are you the person in the house beside ours?"

"One of them. The other one is the great big guy talking to your aunt and uncle," he says, finding the back of the couch before he sits down. "His name is Wade. I'm Matt."

"I'm Peter. Why are you wearing sunglasses if you're inside?"

Straight to the point, aren't you, buddy.

"I'm blind, I can't see anything with my eyes," Matt explains. "Some people are creeped out by my eyes because they don't move and I have some scars, and I don't want to creep them out so I wear sunglasses."

"Even inside?"

"Even inside."

"Ah. Okay. Do you like dinos?" Peter asked, tossing his book on the couch and crawling up beside Matt. 

Matt informs the kid that he loves dinos, what about you? He can tell that Peter's beaming, and he puts his book in Matt's lap, guiding his hands over the pages. It's one of those toddler books with the thick cardboard pages and fabric pictures. Peter dutifully names every dino on the pages, being extra careful with how he pronounces each word.

That book still sits on May Parker's shelf, worn down and well loved.

The next time, it's a cartoon Peter describes to him. The next, he reads him a new book. After that, they just talk. Matt grows more attached with every second he spends knowing the boy's there, and Wade tells him that's good. Soon enough, the neighbor is more his brother than anything else and he's willing to give the universe and more for the kid.

One day Wade's on a job, Matt's so excited to get home because he'd come across a small place selling plushies and Peter's current obsession was arachnids so he'd gotten him a spider plush and the kid was gonna love it.

There's someone in Peter's room with him. Around the same age, male, speaking excitedly. There's a mass of little plastic things on the floor between them, LEGOs probably.

"I'm back," he calls when the door opens, already unlocked. "Anyone home? Pete?"

Peter stumbles to his feet, dragging the other boy up with him, and shoves the bedroom door open with far more force than necessary. "Matty!" he yells, launching himself at Matt and throwing his arms around his waist. The kid's practically vibrating.

"Hey there, Peter. Sorry I'm late, I got you a surprise," Matt said, extracting the child from his person. When Matt hands him the spider plush, Peter explodes.

"Ohhhh my _gosh_ she's beautiful she is now my favorite I will name her Princess Anastasia Aurora Allison Annebelle the Fifth and I will love her forever," Peter said in a breath, squeezing Princess Anastasia Aurora Allison Annebelle the Fifth to his chest and bouncing around. He only stopped to grab Matt's hand and start dragging him further into the house. "MattMattMatt - you gotta meet my bestest friend ever!"

"Bestest friend ever? Even bestest-er than me?"

Peter giggles. "No one's bestest-er than you, but you can't be my bestest friend if you're my bestest brother. There is a line," he says very seriously. "Come meet him! His name's Ned and he likes LEGOs and Star Wars and dinos too!"

"Really? Well he sounds like the perfect guy to be your bestest friend."

He remains so to this day. Matt had his own bestest friend too one day, his name's Foggy.

Hell week is upon them when he suggests Foggy come meet his family, since the Nelsons had already tried to adopt him on every one of the several occasions he'd been in their presence.

"Sure, man, totally. We can walk down tomorrow, my Punjabi exam is this afternoon."

 _Walk down?_ You don't just walk down to Queens, that's insane, do you know how big this city is?

"I'm sorry, where?"

Queens, Foggy. His family lived in Queens.

"I thought you lived in Hell's Kitchen?" Foggy said, very confused.

"I did," Matt said, "then I lived in the Upper West Side, then we moved to Queens, then I moved back here."

"You lived in the Upper West Side?" Foggy asked, more confused.

"Fog. I was adopted through the Foster system. The guy who adopted me, him and his girl lived in the Upper West Side, there was an accident, we go across the river to Queens, where we meet my brother," he explained more slowly. "Clear?"

"Yes," Foggy said, which was a lie. He decided, "I need a nap." 

And didn't they all? 

"I'm gonna - I'm gonna go do that. Wake me up in an hour."

Will do buddy. 

"Are you sure this is the place?" Foggy asked for the umpteenth time once they'd gotten to the street the Parkers and Wade lived on. "Not that I'm saying you don't know where you're going, it just. Doesn't look like someplace I expected you to have lived. Flowers all over and shit."

"You're looking at the wrong house. To the left of the one with the seashell windchime, it probably has a robot claw or something on the porch."

" - _and I get that part of it just fine, it's this part over here I don't get,_ " Peter was saying to Wade, seated on one of the barstools at the breakfast bar, papers spread out before him. " _I mean, like do I do all of it at once, or this to both and then divide, or add after, the sub didn't really explain._ "

Wade was holding a bowl of something that had tomatoes in it, waving a wooden spoon at Peter as he leaned back against the counter. " _Listen, munchkin, sweetcheeks, honey-boo,_ " Wade said, motioning with his wooden spoon, " _I have no idea what you're saying, it's complete gibberish. I'm a dropout, cake pop, I don't think I ever even made it close to your level. Be sure you ask your teach when she gets back, yea?_ "

Matt fitted the new key Wade had sent him, marked by a smooth sticker, into the lock. There was a new lock on the doors every year or two. It turns with a soft click. 

"I'm home!" he calls, letting Foggy in and taking off his shoes.

"Kitchen," Wade calls back right when Peter yells "Matty!" and comes barreling towards the door to crush him in a hug.

"Oh, you're getting so tall. There's no way you were this big last time I saw you," Matt says, messing up his hair.

Peter giggles. "It's only been a few weeks," he said, ducking out of the way. He saw Foggy, hovering awkwardly in the doorway, and immediately punched Matt in the arm. "Wade! Matty brought a date!"

"It's not a date - come here, you little monster - " Matt made a grab for Peter's shirt, only for him to dance out of reach. "Wade! Peter's being a brat!"

"What'd I say about infighting? Keep the rough-housing to the living room and outside," Wade snapped from the kitchen. "Honey, come help."

Matt folded up his cane and glasses, setting them on the counter. Wade scolded him for 'putting your stick in the kitchen, it touches the filthy streets it does not belong in a kitchen,' but didn't do anything to stop him like always. Peter grabbed it and tossed it on the couch for him like always.

Peter instructed Foggy to take his shoes off and come inside, going back to his homework. Wade passed the bowl of the something with tomatoes in it to Matt with brief instructions to add some of the spices on the counter, to go loom over Foggy.

"This is your date?"

"Not a date!" Matt added something that smelled herby and like garlic to the bowl. "He's my roommate. Fogs, this is my dad Wade and brother Peter."

"Fogs?" Wade questioned, arms crossed over his chest. He towered over Foggy, all hard muscle and professional merc intimidation.

"Uh, yeah, it's," Foggy stumbles out, "people call me - call me Foggy."

Matt threw in a few more of the things left within his reach until he was satisfied with what he'd made Wade's something with tomatoes into. And yes, believe it or not he did know what he was doing here. Sure, he didn't read any of the labels but he'd grown up helping both his dads in the kitchen. It'd be great.

"And you let them?" Wade asked. Matt could _hear_ the non-existent eyebrow raise.

"Um," Foggy answered eloquently, heart still going a thousand miles a minute.

"Wade, stop imposing. Foggy's my Ned, and you're freaking him out," he cut in to shove the bowl back into Wade's arms. 

"Hnm."

"Dude, your dad scares the shit out of me," Foggy hissed as soon as said dad had returned to the other side of the breakfast bar. "You didn't tell me you dad was motherfrikkin' Deadpool! A little warning next time would be nice."

Matt reached across Peter's homework to confirm that Wade was wearing the suit. He was. Yeah, that explained perfectly why Foggy's heart had skyrocketed immediately upon coming in . But he was still Wade, and no matter how many people he had killed he'd never lay a hand on his boys or their friends and that was obvious, so he didn't really see what the big deal was.

"Eh, you'll get used to him."

They never did meet Elektra, but they saw the aftermath.

Wade came home late to Matt passed out on the couch. Glasses still on, cane on the floor, blood on his knuckles. He vaguely remembers batting at Wade's arm when he was picked up and carried down the hall. 

His room was still the same as when he lived there. Silk sheets, braille books lining the shelves above his desk, a copy of Thurgood Marshall among the scattered mess of pens he didn't need and a few little things Peter had brought him over the year. A sweater over the end of the bed, one of his extra canes leaned against the open door to his closet, a succulent in his window.

Pictures he couldn't see on the walls. He would listen to his family describe the image and pretend, just for a moment, that he could. He knew every single one by heart.

When Matt woke up, Wade was still there. Matt's arm was slung over his waist, hand knotted in the fabric of Wade's shirt, and he was pressed into his side, Wade's scarred hands on his shoulders and in his hair. There were tear tracks running down his cheeks, even though he didn't remember crying.

Peter picked out all the watermelon cubes from his fruit bowl to dump into Matt's. In exchange for all of Matt's grapes, of course. It was good deal, he said, and maybe if he told Peter about his and Foggy's latest adventure he'd consider throwing in his lemon slices.

Wade muttered that they were so weird, what the fuck kind of person eats straight lemons?

Matt told them about his and Foggy's latest adventure. Peter gave him his lemon slices. Wade pressed a kiss to the crown of their heads, told Peter for the love of god not to bring home anymore plants and you, Matthew, need to come home more often.

Neither of them asked. He didn't feel like telling.

Bruises taste like battery acid the same way blood tastes like copper. Peter carried the taste of battery acid with him in the same way Wade dragged the taste of copper trough the air. It'd been heavier lately, since he'd finally gotten a skateboard and had been trying to skateboard everywhere even though he was unconditionally terrible at it.

He's getting better, Peter keeps telling him. But he also uses it as an excuse for the rest of his bruises, the ones they know are from someone else.

They don't ask, he doesn't want to tell.

Other people sure as hell notice, though. Karen is among them.

The first time Peter comes to the office while she's there, he comes bearing gifts in the form of coffee grounds and little origami animals he spent hours re-doing and perfecting in front of a computer. This happens during the time when they have a lot of clients paying them in food and favors, and that ends up making Karen think he's another client.

A client here to deal with his abuser, apparently.

Matt and Foggy were in a meeting with an older man at the time, Mr. Lyanne, who had been the victim of assault on his person and defacement of his property. Matt knows it's Peter right away even without listening to his heart, he'd recognize him from smell alone which sounds far creepier than it actually is. It's battery acid and dirt and paper and _home_ , a bundle of safety. 

He thinks nothing of it; Peter had said he'd be dropping by sometime this week to help out, taking notes and such.

Mr. Lyanne is describing the damage to his little store down on 14th, how he can't pay for both the damages and the hospital bill to them. They nod and ask little questions here and there. The door to the conference room opens and Matt reaches out automatically. Peter makes a clicking noise in the back of his throat that Matt echoes, curling his fingers around Matt's as he settles in with a pad of paper and a pen to take some notes.

Mr. Lyanne's heart stumbles. Foggy stops mid-sentence. Karen stands in the doorway appalled. Peter barely manages to finish writing down his thought before Karen is trying to usher him outside, saying something in a hushed tone, with no avail as Peter pushes his seat as close to Matt's as he can, holding onto his hand tight.

"Mmmhhng," Peter vocalizes. He might as well be screaming that he doesn't understand why in the world would she do what she's doing.

"I'm sure she has a good reason," Matt says. He inclines his head towards she in question, eyebrows knitting together. "Karen, I'm afraid we don't understand what you're doing?"

"I'm so sorry," Karen flushes. "I tried to keep him out, I don't even know why he's here, he hadn't said a word he just dropped some things on my desk and walked in. I know I'm supposed to keep clients out of meetings, I'm a horrible secretary, I'm so - "

"Client?" Matt's eyebrows were almost touching in his confusion. He turned to Peter, asking, "What have you done this time?"

His brother tightens his hold on Matt's hand. "Nothin'," he says, and though his heart tells no lie he sounds more than a little guilty at somethin'.

"Have you brought your little monstrosities into my office? How dare. Where's your face," Matt says, reaching for Peter's face to feel for injuries. It was hard to tell where the battery acid was coming from, even close. 

"No monstrocities," Peter promised, leaning towards him without a second thought.

"Promises, promises." Matt frowned at him. Split brow and lip, bruised cheekbone very close to the eye, more little bruises on and around his jaw. "What'd you do to get this? That skateboard of yours is a menace. Unless it's from you getting into fights." Peter made an offended sort of growl noise he knows the kid got from Wade. "Hey, I'm just saying! You may not be allowed to start fights, but defending yourself is exempt from that rule. And it was never said that you couldn't end a fight. Think _Aristocats_ , that's what we taught you."

Mr. Lyanne chuckled, heartrate smoothing out as Peter scowls.

"Sorry to interrupt, Matthew," Foggy said in a voice that meant he was getting an explanation or else. "What is he doing here - what are you doing here. You should be in school."

"It's almost four, Mr. Foggy," Peter said at the same time Karen asked, "You know him?"

"Didn't I introduce you?" Matt tried to remember if his brother and secretary had met before, but couldn't find a memory of such a thing. "Huh. Kid, this is our secretary Karen Page. Karen, this is my brother Peter. He's decided to intern with us."

"You have a brother, and you _didn't tell me_? I thought you didn't have any family!"

"Later," Matt dismissed her with a wave of the hand, which she gasped at in mock offense. "My apologies, Mr. Lyanne. Please, continue."

Karen later demanded stories of Little Matty from Peter as retribution for not being let in on the news of a not-so-secret secret family.

Frank Castle knew to stay the fuck away from most mercenaries, people like Deadpool at the top of that list. The Spider-Kid, he tried to avoid when he was in Hell's Kitchen after the first time, where he shot the kid when he popped over the edge of the building.

Ever heard of Claire Temple? Absolute saint, enough said there.

Wade meeting MJ and Matthew meeting MJ were two very different experiences.

Wade, or so he claimed, had met Michelle Jones in a laundromat. Y'know, just like Blind Al. She was sitting on a washer across the aisle from him, reading while her laundry was going. She had raised a brow over her book at him when he took out the materials Blind Al recommended to get out blood, and asked why he needed so much.

Since Wade had never cared all too much about his personal identity, he just kind of held the suit out in explanation.

"Ah," she said, sagely. "Peter's parent. Got it."

"WHAT," Wade replied, sagely. "WHO??"

"He's in some of my classes."

Wade shoved the suit in the washer, squinting suspiciously at her. "Uh-huh," he muttered.

"Chill. He doesn't say your last name. He's registered with two, I figured it out. Stop your squintin', old man."

Wade decided he liked her, and immediately reported this to a very confused Peter with absolutely no context.

Matt's encounter was a little more professional. 

Peter had managed to convince Foggy and him to apply Nelson & Murdock for the internship program at Midtown Science and Tech. To help collect credits for graduation while he works. Win-win, right? A couple friends were checking out the internship list, and Ned, who hadn't been able to keep his mouth shut since he was hip-high don't worry it's endearing, had remembered Murdock is Mr. Matthew's name isn't it?

Peter told Ned to stop calling Matt Mr. Matthew. Wade told Ned to call him Mr. Matthew because the back-and-forth it resulted in amused him. Matt told Ned to stop calling him Mr. Matthew. Alas, the boy was like Peter and refused to be anything less than frustratingly polite.

"Hi, Mr. Matthew!" Ned practically yelled. "Good afternoon Ms. Page, hello Mr. Nelson!"

"I am. Wayyyyyyyy. Too hungover," Karen hissed, cradling her coffee mug like it was a lifeline, "for children."

Foggy snorted very elegantly in her direction. 

Matt sighed. "Hello, Ned. Please, for the love of God, just call me Matt."

"Never gonna work, Matty," Peter chirped, pressing a kiss to Matt's cheek as he passed. "You need to shave."

"My face is none of your concern, Pete." Matt trailed his fingers along the wall, headed to the kitchen to prepare tea with the leftover hot water. "You gonna introduce us?"

"Too hungover," Karen whispered. He could hear the judgement from the young female standing in the doorway, clearly unimpressed with what she was seeing. Foggy was too busy eyeing her down and judging her back to comment.

"Right!" Peter stuck his head out of Matt's office to point all around the room as he said names. "MJ, this is Karen Page, Foggy Nelson, Matthew Murdock. Adults, this is Michelle Jones. Matty, where's my, uh, whatchamacallit whatsit whatever."

"Which one?" Matt held out one of the mugs he'd prepared. "Tea."

"Y'know the - thank you - whatchamacallit, with the tabs. Can't think of the English word," Peter muttered, reaching over to grab the offered mug. "The write-y thing you do with the not-feather tool."

"Oh, that one." Matt nodded. "Swirls on the corners, right? Check under the case files on my desk, if not then the low drawer." 

"Yes! Been lookin' for that all day," Peter muttered, returning to his search with his tea in tow.

"What's he looking for?" Ned asked.

"His design whatnot book."

"Oh, okay. Anyways, Mr. Matthew, you and Mr. Nelson put the firm up for internship options?"

"We did, didn't we. Is that why you're here, Ms. Jones?"

"It's a possibility," Michelle said. "Peter's awfully friendly with you, Mr. Murdock, would you happen to be the other part of the trio?"

Matthew blinked in her direction. He cradled his mug a little closer. "Excuse me?" 

"I know who Mr. Wilson is," Michelle said calmly, looking past him to his office. "I've done my research. I know a lot, and he shouldn't."

" _Excuse me_?" He said again, no longer polite in any sense of the word. Was this girl trying to threaten him? What was she gonna do if Peter did go their way, or found out he already had, hit 'em with a textbook?

"Matthew," Peter hummed, bumping the side of his head against Matt's shoulder and gently prying his mug from his hands before he broke it. "Inside voice."

He hadn't noticed he'd started to voice a little bit of the devil in him. Or, as Wade liked to call it, using his Scary Vigilante Voice. It involved a feral growl in the back of his throat, Peter had said that while it was indeed intimidating, it made him sound like he gargled broken glass sometimes.

"Inside voice," he muttered back. His fingers twitched for something to hold onto. "Sure."

"You alright there, Matt?" Foggy called from the door to his office. He was holding a file. Karen was tapping her keyboard, watching. "Something overloading your brain?"

"It's just paperwork I remembered I have to do," he lied, bitter. He put on a smile. "So, about the internship program?"

"Wade."

"I'm a little busy at the moment, sweetheart, gimme just a sec," Deadpool chirped, phone pressed between his shoulder and ear. He swung his katana at the last little mobster thug's knees, watching him scream and try to drag himself to a safety he'd never find. "Yes, boo-bear?"

"I need you to humor me, just for a minute or two, Wade. It's urgent," Matt said, a little breathless. Must have been on the roofs. "I know you two can handle yourselves, and there's no need to protect you or make sure you get somewhere safe. But for the sake of my sanity, just - "

"Honey? What happened, where are you?"

Screw finishing the job, if his kid was hurt enough to be asking for help - 

"I'm safe, I'm with . . . It's safe here," Matt assured him quietly. "There's a precinct in Harlem where you'll be a little safer. Foggy and Karen are going there right now, and Peter will meet you there. Tell Misty Knight you're there for me, she'll show you to the others. Please."

"I better see you there, not a scratch on you."

"You will, Dad."

He gave the address and hung up. There were no goodbyes. In their family, there was only welcome home.

"Sorry, Sir, I'm afraid we'll have to cut this meeting short," Deadpool told his crying companion. "Give us a good rating on Yelp!"

Leave him to tell his friends. Just gonna give him more jobs later on. He had better shit to do.

Harlem wasn't a far shot from where he was now, a little ways North-East of Manhattan Valley. He'd catch a train and be there in thirty minutes. Damage assessment, debrief, get armed up, and deal with this shit.

When he walked through the doors of the station, every officer dropped what they were doing and aimed at him. Which was to be expected, since he was covered in blood, wearing a mask, and had weaponry all over. And maybe a little bit because he was the infamously immortal Deadpool. Someone in holding Wade vaguely recognized from Sister Margaret's gave him a nod. 

"Chill, fuckwads, I'm jus' here for my kid."

"And who would that be?" A dark-skinned woman asked, not a waver in her confidence, tone, or posture. He liked her already.

"You Misty Knight?"

"I might be."

"Where's Matthew Murdock?"

"He your kid?" Knight asked. She shifted her aim from his head to his knee. Nice lady. 

"He might be."

Knight looked him up and down, squinting and scrutinizing him. She holsters her gun and scrubs a hand over her face, pinching the bridge over her nose. "Of course I'm the one stuck with all you crazy types," she muttered. "Sword away, follow me."

He does as told. They don't ever make it to wherever Matty's at, because a familiar mop of short brown curls pokes out of the break room door.

"Wade?" said he owner of the mop. "Wade!"

There's a bubble of relief in his lungs when he hears Peter's voice. If Peter was here and hadn't called, they were both safe. It was safe. He turned around and marched right on over to shake some information outta the boy.

"Ah, no touching," Peter sang, dodging into the break room and out of reach. "Dirty hands."

Wade tore his gloves off, shoving them into their designated pouch, and rolled his sleeves up. Peter stayed still long enough for Wade to grab him under the arms and heft him up to eye level. Peter got his fingers under the edges of the mask and pulled it off, patting Wade's scarred cheek. The kid grinned, doing the little rumble-purr-acknowledgement thing that made his ribcage vibrate.

"Hello, Wade."

"Hello, Pipsqueak."

"Deadpool. Should've expected you here."

Wade lowered the mass of gangly little limbs in his grip to see over him. Peter tucked his legs to be sure his feet didn't touch the floor. Sitting on the edge of a cot was the goddess Clair Temple herself, beautiful as always.

"Well if it isn't the ever radiant Claire Temple," Wade greeted pleasantly. "Good to see you, Ms. Temple."

Claire looked between Wade and his charge, who waved. "Good to see you when you're not bleeding all over my floor."

The others gathered in the room were not nearly as interesting to him. There was Page, Nelson, a vaguely recognized woman with a reporter look about her, and another with a sword. That last one looked ready to kick his ass. He watched her stance for a handful of seconds before dismissing her entirely. Page asked him to please put the intern down, Mr. Wilson.

Wade lifted Peter back up and shook him. Just a bit. "Where's the other one and what can you brief me on."

"Mr. Foggy says the other one's down the hall," Peter answered cheerfully, swinging his feet around a little. He always did like being in the air. "Matty called the school, officer picked me up. Something about my safety, there's a big thing going down on the other side, Peter please don't get yourself involved. The usual."

Hm.

Good enough for now.

"Did you get yourself involved anyway."

"Not yet."

"Your information is unhelpful, child," Wade informed him, shaking him some more.

Peter's chest vibrated with an inaudible purr in face of his disapproval. Wade dropped him. Kid bounced right back up, pressing himself into a carefully located not bloody spot on Wade's side. He did not relinquish the mask. Wade raked a hand through his hair, doing another visual sweep of the room.

"Nelson." Nelson's attention snapped from Page to him. "You seen him, yes? He dead yet?"

"No, definitely not." Nelson said. He muttered, "Not like there's much that can kill him at this point."

Damn straight. Wade taught the boy how to keep alive himself, he better still be keepin' alive. Not a scratch. 

Knight had left at some point, probably to go talk to Matthew. Sword Girl and Reporter kept eyeing him down, despite the insistence from both Nelson and Page that no fighting or protecting was necessary. Temple claimed fighting was perfectly okay, so long as Deadpool was the only one being fatally wounded. Peter had Wade sit down with him and told him all about this new experiment they were trying out in Science class that Wade did not understand the slightest bit.

In the middle of explaning something about a handful of chemicals, Peter's attention turned entirely to the door. A moment later, in came Matty, guided by a woman in a lather jacket. His cane and and glasses were missing, he was wearing his combats. On a job as a civie, not expecting but prepared for combat. He was keeping his head down.

"Matt!" Peter crooned, snaking his way under his brother's arm and gently butting his head against Matt's temple. "Hi."

"Hi, Peter," Matt crooned back, returning the gentle headbutt with one of his own. "You didn't give the officer any trouble did you?"

Peter whined about always being the accused. He wasn't _that_ suspicious, or that mean. Only sometimes. But Matt couldn't really talk, 'cause guess who he got it from.

While Peter was talking, Wade approached without a word. He put a hand under Matt's chin, lifting his head and turning it this and that way. Matt took this is stride, remaining perfectly still and silent throughout the examination.

"I said not a scratch," Wade finally growled, low and dangerous. He knew Matt wasn't dumb enough to get himself pitted against odds he couldn't take, not alone. He should have been unharmed, he said they were safe. "Did I not fuckin' say, not a scratch on you?"

"You did," Matt said calmly, sporting more than a scratch. His lip started bleeding again as he spoke. "I do remember you saying that."

"You said they were safe."

"Relatively."

" _Relative - ?_ " Wade grabbed him by the shoulders to get them eye-to-eye despite the fact he couldn't see. "Relatively is not safe."

"That's enough manhandling the blind guy," the woman in a leather jacket, Jessica Jones his brain supplied, snapped. She had a hand around his forearm, almost crushing the bones in her grip. "Put him down."

"Jess, it's fine, this is normal. He's just like this," Matt helpfully informed her. He was a little distracted with Peter asking questions rapid fire. "Though feet on the ground would be nice."

No feet on the ground until there was a debrief.

Matt briefed him. He was allowed to have his feet back on the ground.

"Okay, what's our plan?"

"Our - No, Pete. You two aren't coming, you're staying here. It's not your - "

"Like fuck we're staying here," Wade cut in. "This is a big mission, you don't do big missions alone."

"I won't be alone. There's three of us, and once we get Danny back that's four," Matt protested. "We all know what we're doing."

"Maybe individually, but you're the only one with experience on a team," Peter shot back. "There's no coordination, you're essentially strangers. You really trust them with it?"

"I don't need to trust them. It'll work, I'll be right back. It's fine."

"You best be right back. If you die doin' this, I will track down your soul and ground you for eternity," Wade threatened, although he didn't sound very threatening. He wasn't actually too sure he still had that power.

"Sure you will. I'll be okay, Wade." Matt opened his arms. "C'mon, an ounce of faith. Twelve hours tops."

Ugh. Fine. 

Twelve hours, that's all you get.

"Thank you, Dad."

Wade made sure to bruise Matt's ribs in a hug before he let the kid go on his mission. Peter might have left some actual bruises. And, just to be extra sure he'd come back in one piece, Wade pressed one of his katanas into his hand. Which Knight did not approve of, but did not take away.

When the police radios started going off, screaming something about Midland Circle, Peter suited up in the alley next door and they were off. Matt still had quite some time, but their worry wasn't for him anyways. 

Matt wasn't there when they got to the scene. Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, Daniel Rand(?), sword girl, Temple, Knight minus one arm, no Daredevil. Collapsed building, with how the debris fell there was a pit. Judging from the looks the Relatively Safe People had, Daredevil was sitting in the bottom of the pit. With no way out and no way up, no healing factor or super strength in sight.

His son was down there.

The soldier carved into his brain screamed.

"Spidey - "

"On it." Spider-Man got on top of the debris and started pulling blocks out of the way.

"Deadpool, I'm so sorry," Cage said, hushed and subdued.

"Don't apologize to me, apologize to the man you left buried," Wade snapped. No one moved. "What the fuck are you waiting for? Cage, Jones, get yourselves and your super strength over to Spider-Man. Temple, get your patient out, Sword Girl help her. Rand, you're with me."

Still, no one moved.

"Wilson, look at this mess. Your teammate is gone. He's not like you, he's d - "

Wade grabbed her by the collar of her stupid leather jacket, smashing their skulls together. Knock some sense into her. "You watch your mouth, Jones. That is my son down there, who put his life in your dumbass hands even though he knew he shouldn't have, who trusted you, who made sure your asses got out alive, who you left in the bottom of a goddamn collapse. That is _my boy_. And he is not dead, he is going to come back up, and you are going to help find him."

"And how do you know that?" Jones demanded, voice cracking.

"Because I raised him. He has twelve hours and my sword, and he promised he'd come home. He's too smart to break that."

He let her go.

They didn't find the body.

"Father Lantom, Sir? I'm sorry to interrupt. You don't know me personally. I'm looking for my brother, he went missing when Midland Circle caved. You were his priest."

Father Lantom invited Peter to sit with him. "Many people pass through here, young man, and I am priest to all of them. Do you have a way to narrow it down."

Peter didn't know much about churches or how you were supposed to act in them, but he was pretty sure you weren't supposed to be on your phone. You weren't supposed to be on your phone during a conversation either, but this was a good reason, right? He unlocked his phone, trying to page through his overflowing gallery for his most recent picture of Matt.

"Well, he was an orphan here for five years until he got adopted by a big, scarred man who wears this dark red hoodie a lot. He comes by a lot, said he did lattes with you sometimes. He's blind."

There. Peter showed Father Lantom the picture, taken maybe two months before Midland Circle. 

Matt was making something in his kitchen, ranting. Most of his body was off to the left side of the screen, safe for the arm he was waving around on the right side of the screen. The light from the bill board and sunset sent colors scattering over the counter, shining through the glasses lined up on the right side and painting his back a mosaic. It made his scars look softer and the kitchen homier, shards of light nestled in his hair and pronouncing the bruise on his jaw and bloody look to his knuckles. Matt had been a tiny bit annoyed Peter hadn't been paying attention, kicked him out of the kitchen and made him describe the picture to him.

Father Lantom was quiet, and there was a gentle kind of grief in his eyes.

"His - His name's Matthew," Peter continued. "I know everyone's saying he's dead, he's not. He promised to come home, and he still has Dad's sword. He'll come home when he can, I know, but I just want to know where he is. That he's okay."

"There is something you should see, child."

Father Lantom stood, ushering Peter out into the aisle and down into the heart of the church. Peter heard Matt's heartbeat before he got past the first set of pillars, so tuned in to finding that beat from his searches. 

He didn't think he'd cried that much since Uncle Ben. Matt cried too, something Peter had never been witness too, and that just lead to two entire minutes of apologies and 'you don't have to be sorry' from both parties. He wasn't allowed to hug Matt with his full normal-human strength, but the nice nun lady who tended to Matt said gentle hugs were allowed so it was okay.

Matt had one heck of an explanation to do, especially once he introduced the nice nun lady as his mom. Peter got Wade on the phone, which meant explanation would have to wait until Wade stopped having ulcers.

The Avengers were not to be spoken of. Not if you wanted to keep your knees.

Peter Parker-Wilson is almost twenty when Miles Morales comes into his life.

He's doing pretty good for himself so far. Still alive. Doing his sophomore year in undergrad at Columbia. Paid internship at Stark Industries, which gladly pays intuition and school fees for it's workers. Ruining Matt's life like any good brother. Volunteering at shelters and with charities during his breaks. Still doing the Spider-Man thing. 

Pretty good.

He'd shifted his patrol route to cover the area in and around Hell's Kitchen, with some web-slinging over the river on Saturdays, while he stayed with Matt. Because the dorms sucked and he was not making that commute for an eight AM lecture, he would most definitely miss his stop every single time. This meant Queens was covered most of the time by the occasional drop in of a Brooklyn vigilante, since Queens didn't have nearly as many.

During breaks, on the other hand. 

Oh ho.

Low-lives beware, Spider-Man had some pent-up negativity and all the time in the damn world. And when Queens was quiet, he invaded Brooklyn as thanks to those who covered his territory.

The Spidey-Sense spiked, arching through his spine and digging it's nails into his nerves. 

When in unfamiliar territory, you can see why that makes him want to not be vulnerable on all sides. He was an easy target to whatever freaked the Sense out as long as he was in the air. Peter set down on a building, clambering over the side to get down a level on the fire escape.

The Sense was an ingrained warning system, that's how he had come to understand it. Understandable, seeing as whenever it went off it warned him of something. Whatever this was, the Sense informed him this was not a warning in that weird convoluted way it did. 

It buzzed under his skin, but only on one arm. He moved the arm out of the way of any possible incoming fire. It continued buzzing. What, did it want him to follow it? Why would he ever do that, what sort of stupid compass tells him to follow his arm would go anywhere! Worst compass ever right there.

Peter turned to the left. The buzzing moved to his palms.

Okay, maybe not the worst compass.

He raised his hands. They buzzed louder, sparking nerves in his wrists.

 _FORWARD_ the Sense shrieked. It stopped shrieking only when he'd moved four buildings over, standing on the lip of the fifth. _danger gun bullet fight fight bullet danger save fight_

There was laughter, low and crude, on the other side of the building. It made this feeling drag it's claws up his spine, this distant thrum of fear in the back of his head. It felt like danger. Just, not for him. He wasn't in danger, he knew where everyone he cared about was, there wasn't any reason for him to be afraid. That didn't mean he wasn't afraid, it's just the fear wasn't . . . his.

Okay, bad explanation.

Peter followed the laughter, crawling down the side of the building. There was a situation down below, seven baddies and four innocents. One of which was in a cheap Spider-Man costume, and clearly just a kid. The kid was putting himself between the baddies and a trio of ladies maybe around Peter's age, shoulders hunched and stance closed off.

He sorta reminded Peter of himself, back when he was smaller and stupider.

Not that he was calling the kid stupid, no! It's just - standing off against seven guys twice your size and with weapons? Alone, unarmed, with zero plan? Not the smartest idea.

_save save fight danger helphelphelp bullet save fight fight KID SAVE KID_

The fear-that-wasn't-his honed in on the man in the front of the troupe, waving a gun around as he spoke in hushed tones. The kid took a deep breath in, shoulders dropping and clenched fists loosening. He slid one foot forwards, dropping his chin and bringing his hands up. Standard boxing stance. For all intents and purposes, he was stone cold calm, ready to fight for what he'd started.

The ringleader laughed at this.

The kid scanned the rooftops. He sent a second, desperate glance back at Peter's shadowy perch.

_SAVE_

There was a swirling tattoo on Ringleader's neck. He couldn't really make it out, but once he'd notice the one, he noticed the other six. One for each thug. A matching set.

Peter hit the ground hard enough to make the dumpsters quake, shocks running through the ground and up the surrounding buildings. Dust fell through te cracks in the walls. Peter began to whistle.

Ringleader whipped around. He scoffed, "Another freak. Listen pal, we ain't playing games tonight, we're doing our jobs. So just turn around and march right back to whichever shithole you came from, and everyone's happy."

Hm. No.

Peter popped up on his toes to look over Ringleder's head at the boy and three women. He clicked his tongue. "Eehn, I dunno 'bout that, friend. Those four don't look too happy to me," he said, raising his voice. "S'cuse me, miss? In the, uhhh, green skirt. Hi. Pardon me, ma'am, are you happy right now?"

The woman in the green skirt looked down to confirm she was, indeed, the woman in the green skirt. She shook her head.

"Ooh, bummer for your theory there, buddy," he sighed, hands on his hips. "Ma'am, please take your friends and go. That means you too, Spidey."

The kid glanced between the girls, thankfully fleeing, and the Baddie Squad, pissed and gearing for a tussle.

"You - !" Ringleader snarled at Peter. "You just made a big mistake, freak. You're outnumbered, you ain't getting out of this."

Ha. Ha ha ha.

C'mon, silly. There was no need to fight. Not for Peter, at least.

He slunk back, slipping into the shadows. Ringleader motioned for the rest to be on their guard. Like that would save them. He picked them off, one by one, string them up along the fire escape and the edge of a building. He made quick work of them, piling up the weapons into an empty garbage can and crushing it shut.

Good. He had other things to do tonight. But first, he held Ringleader's head down and got a picture of the tattoo. He stood for a minute, staring down at his phone and wondering if he'd seen it somewhere before. It did seem familiar, now that he got closer.

"Spider-Man?"

The kid was waiting, at the end of the alley.

The buzzing sparked up behind Peter's eyes when he looked at the kid, bouncing around his skull. Whatever dumb compass the Sense believed it was was pointing him to the kid. 

The kid flinched, clapping a hand over the base of his neck. Exactly where Peter's Spidey-Sense came on the worst. The buzzing faded. Small hands settled on his spine, counting each vertebrae and smoothing rough fingers over the base of his neck. It please the Sense, even though there was nothing there.

The kid was standing three feet away.

_save safe nofight spider helphelp SPIDERLING_

It clicked.

He and this Spidey needed to have a chat.

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyy! Welcome back to the Second Chances 'verse, hope you liked it. There is ideas for a story with Miles and Peter in the works, btw.
> 
> ALSO not seen in this fic is Lilo, Peter's service puppy, to be introduced later on.


End file.
